When I tell you to think of the great lovers of women, who comes to mind? Casanova? Sure. Don Juan? Fine, if you like swarthy. Fabio? Lindsay Lohan? All fine examples, but I’m talking about an absolute authority on the subject. Someone who not only has mastered the art of loving women but could teach a class on it to those not as adept at loving the fairer sex. You know who I mean, right? Think pasty, pock-marked Canadian. YES! Bryan Adams, he of the hit song Have You Ever Really Loved A Woman? (And make no mistake that the title is indeed a mocking indictment of your own prowess, I get the feeling he thinks you have not really, really loved a woman. Bryan is a cruel teacher.)

I myself was under the impression that I had loved a woman, maybe even more than once, until I went through Mr. Adam’s masters course on the subject. Herewith a detailed breakdown in the ways I have loved a woman (yay! me) and ways in which I have clearly missed the boat.

To really love a woman…

You gotta know her deep inside – Um, okay, uh, yeah. Deep, check, like the deepest, you know what I mean? MOVING ON!

Hear every thought – See, he says ‘hear’ which is important, because I have heard I think a passing percentage (let’s say 82%) of every thought. Now whether I ‘listened’ and obeyed/reacted/implemented said thoughts is another matter and one which Bry-man never covers. So I’d say another check goes here.

See every dream – I’ve heard about the dreams. Sometimes I’ve gotten in trouble for the way I’ve acted in her dreams. But actually seeing them. I’m not even sure that’s possible outside of Leonardo DiCaprio movies (and those weren’t even invented when this song came out) so either Bryan has future sight (quite possible), or he’s loving on a level we can barely even imagine (well, duh). Either way I have not really loved in this sense.

And give her wings, if she wants to fly – I bought her a Red Bull once or twice, so checkity-check.

You find yourself lyin’ helpless in her arms – Okay, yes, and I’m not proud of this. And though I hate to disagree with Master Bryan, I’m pretty sure this wasn’t a turn on for her either. Maybe it is integral to really loving her, but I don’t recommend going fetal in her lap while a ruffian hovers nearby and she laughs derisively. Um, allegedly.

Tell her that she’s really wanted – Yeah, I’ve done this. Nothing wrong with letting her know how important she is as a part of your life. I can get with that as a necessary part of a true loving relationship.

Then tell her that she’s the one ’cause she needs somebody to tell her that it’s gonna last forever – Okay, now you’re just being a pussy.

Let her hold you ’til you know how she needs to be touched – I’m not sure that I’ve done this. There seems to be something logistically amiss about the logic though I can’t put my finger on it. And I really don’t want her putting her finger on it.

Really taste her ’til you can feel her in your blood – Oh, Bryan. When have I not?

You can see your unborn children in her eyes – This one seems a little creepy to me. Not sure visions of floating ocular feti (er, fetuses) is something I really want to witness. And the fact that I might just reinforces my belief that I should never move my eyes above her breasts. Ever.

You got to give her some faith – Sweet Jesus. Religion. I’m in trouble on this one.

Hold her tight – Oh yes, Bryan, hold her tight I do. Very tight, so tight she will not escape. The real, manly-man-of-power kind of tight from which she can barely move. Tight, yes, and because it is so masculine it is with not even a hint of tenderness.

A little tenderness – Aw crap.

You gotta treat her right – Man, he really preloads the hard stuff doesn’t he.

And it’s just that simple. Quick and easy path to good old woman loving. If you’ve done all of this, Sir Bryan assures that ‘She will be there for you, takin’ good care of you’

Though I fall short in a couple of categories, I think I did okay. Sure I’ve got some things to work, but it feels good to know that I am on the path to hardcore loving. With tenderness. And babies in the eyes. Or maybe I should check with that other paragon of lady-lovin’ for a second opinion. Speaking of, where is Scott Baio these days, anyway?

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